Greg Molyneux Photography

Author: Greg Molyneux

  • Here on the Mullica

    Wide angle HDR photograph of sunset over the Mullica River
    Here on the Mullica — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Reclaimer of wood and photographer of things, Ben Wurst hosted friends for textbook late summer chilling and grilling this weekend. Naturally, festivities were preceded by an hour long sunset shoot at a location that was for the rest of us in attendance, a brand new spot! We found ourselves tucked away under the Garden State Parkway in Port Republic, NJ, set alongside the southern shore of the Mullica River. Offering both east and west exposures this is a versatile spot that will no doubt take its place in the rotation.

    We were originally onsite so Ben could catch the full moonrise with his 400mm. Too bad it was obvious immediately that wasn’t going to happen; marine layer clouds were draped over the eastern horizon throwing a dripping wet blanket on those plans. The western side wasn’t much better with low level clouds riding the southerly flow. At this point I was milling about chatting with friends while Jackie remained steadfast to the photo plans, dutifully making shots. It was a good time, weather was perfect.

    A few minutes before sundown, what you could see of a mostly cloud obscured sun disk was swallowed by the marine layer haze. With that it was looking more and more likely that a cloud out was inevitable. Driving the impatience further were some feisty appetites and a nice spread waiting back at the reclaimed home base. The natives were restless. Stalling twice for just three more minutes, I began to question whether my efforts were in vain. About 60 seconds from bailing I noticed an oh-so-subtle back build of pastel color brewing toward the east, over the Parkway span. Jackie! I said, we’re golden. And by golden I meant pink.

    The best sunsets always straddle the fine line of oh yeah or oh no. It’s a razor’s edge of hope that there’s just enough gap underneath the clouds along the horizon to give the last photons of the day a chance to get an angle and deflect off the clouds. That’s just what happened Saturday: a near colorless sunset that ignited a good 5-10 minutes after actual sundown, only to smolder for another 15-20 minutes after that. On this day, our position in space and the physical laws of nature were on our side. Oh, and some luck too.

    Update: unbeknownst to me, Ben captured me in the wild setting up for this shot with his 135mm. Good stuff, Ben. I didn’t even see it coming.

  • This One’s for the Introverts

    This One’s for the Introverts

    Low key black and white macro photograph of a purple coneflower
    This One’s for the Introverts — 100mm | f/2.8 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/400

    Photography as metaphor? Perhaps. Despite taking this photograph two weeks ago to the day, it wasn’t until last night that this image made a connection to my own self, and my own experience of the world. You see last night I finally made it out to one of the weekly free concerts at Harvey Cedars Sunset Park. Sure it was the last concert of the season but better late than never. Conveniently concert time synched up nicely with sunset and conditions looked promising. But it wasn’t until walking through a packed park of maybe a thousand or so peaceful revelers that I noticed my discomfort. Here I was, a fierce introvert loathe for attention walking through crowds brandishing camera and tripod. Even if the eyes drawn upon me were in my own head it was more than enough attention to heighten my heart rate. My brain downshifted into full on Imposter Syndrome, and my insecurities were happy to remind me that I’m somehow not worthy to have a camera in this space. Paralyzed by my environment I made no pictures.

    So how does this rambling anecdote into the spotted mind of Greg Molyneux relate to this photograph? Well it’s all about the desire to be left alone, an anonymous face in the crowd. While we see brightly illuminated flower petals filling the focused foreground, it’s what’s behind the petals that hits closest to home; a lone blossom set back, cast out of focus and into the shadows. This is me. This is how I live my life. Content to do my part on the periphery. And just like those bright petals I’m happy and eager to share myself and my photos open and honestly via social media and this website. It’s that I get to do so at arm’s length that most suits my introverted proclivities.

    But it wasn’t all bad. Oh no. Once I returned the camera gear to the car and walked back to a jammin’ Sunset Park, I took a seat toward the back of the grass. Relaxing in my beach chair I watched day glow fade to black, all the while being serenaded by Eagles covers. That was a good time.

    On an administrative note: this was the 200th photograph I’ve uploaded since launching this website on 18 January 2014. Pretty cool. To all of those who’ve visited—thank you!

  • Where the Wonderment Goes

    Square format HDR photograph of marsh grass and lake at blue hour
    Where the Wonderment Goes — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Sometimes you need your friends to stop by just to get yourself out the door. Despite promising late day sunset conditions, yesterday evening I found myself home from work and passed out on the couch. It was 7 p.m. With the startle of a doorbell I was up and weary, rubbing the sand out of my eyes to open the door. It wasn’t a long visit—maybe ten minutes—but it afforded me the opportunity to get my butt in gear to hop down to the Forge. In retrospect photo making was greater than nap taking—at least for one day.

    Still reeling from my post nap haze at my location some 10 minutes later than what would have been ideal, I didn’t have much time to scan the scene and properly scout my spot. Short on seconds I went to the closest open spot to my position. As you can see the grasses have grown quite unwieldily, but with that came an opportunity. A chance to set my camera right in the scene a, amidst the grasses, to bring a bit of mystery and whim to the photo. Perhaps cliché, but my mind went to right to Thoreau and Walden. A little hidden spot of paradise where the mind can unfurl and set out on a path of wonder.

    Thanks for stopping by, Jackie and Joe!

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  • The Things We See

    Wide angle photograph of blue skies, cumulus clouds, estuary and marsh
    The Things We See — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/40

    Is that an oversized chocolate bunny drifting into the right of the frame? Or is it just the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man all dressed up for Halloween? Of course it could be just a cloud. But what’s the fun in taking things so literal?

    It’s funny what we see, and what we don’t see. As I was making this shot I was going through my usual mental checks: capture cool cumulus clouds; get the bend in the estuary to create movement; and finally, to get the wind blown marsh grass in the foreground. Pretty technical, pretty straightforward. Rote process aside it wasn’t until I was reviewing my shots in post processing that I took note of what is clearly a bunny shaped cloud momma cutting across the sky to herd her little bunny-cloud clan. I may not have the greatest imagination, but this what my mind has gone and done.

    I’d like to give a special shout-out to the lunar cycle for allowing this to time up with a fortuitous low tide. The reduced water table gave me access to a low spot on the marsh that is otherwise submerged. That said walking around marsh muck in flip-flops isn’t exactly a good time, but remember, whatever it takes to get the shot!

  • La Grain

    100mm black and white macro photograph of a purple coneflower
    La Grain — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 100 | EXP 1/400

    While they may not get the same play on social media like my vibrant landscapes are wont to do, a big soft spot in my heart exists solely to express myself through the macro and black and white medium. Five minutes on a psychologist’s couch would most likely reveal this proclivity as a merger between my primary and secondary school days as something of a black and white pencil drawing enthusiast, coupled with my more recent start as a photographer who worked almost exclusively in the macro world for the better part of my first 20,000 photographs. Roots, man. You just can’t shake ’em.

    Here I’ve presented a very simple composition of one of my favorite flower subjects: the purple coneflower. Using a near side-on perspective the depth of field is quite thin. leaving only the front section of the blossom in sharp focus. Shallow depth of field brings a welcome sense of whimsy and wonder to the composition, enabling the eye to move, leaving the mind left to fill in the fuzz. By introducing noise into the photograph during post processing I intentionally wanted the resulting graininess to layer an aspect of grit and imperfection to the shot. In some ways a hat-tip to the tendency of grain to show up in old school film photography—not that I’ve ever shot a roll of film in my life. It’s OK, feel free to revoke any photographist street cred I may or may not have established up and until this point.

  • Unplanned Deviation

    HDR photograph of a summer sunset over marsh and estuary
    Unplanned Deviation — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Under normal circumstances my own personal photographer’s modus operandi brings me to a set location of my choosing, and this decision is most always made before I even step out the front door. Yesterday afternoon, as I was jogging the park and watching the late day clouds fade as they are wont to do, I figured shooting wasn’t going to happen last night. No big deal. Another free summer night. And yet, about an hour before sunset as I was enjoying a doppio at the local Fauxbucks, I spied with my little eyes promising cloud formations building to the south and west. Sweet! I am in luck. And to those who saw me peaking out the inch of open window underneath the blinds, I apologize for my strangeness.

    Before I was even back to my house to collect my gear, my heart and mind was set on Stafford Forge. It had been quite some time since I had shot there, and with little to no wind it seemed a good choice; glassy water does make for unparalleled mirrored reflections, after all. Alas as I was cruising down the parkway, windows down and NPR blasting—I know, I really know how to party—I noticed lots of activity at the Forge. Numerous cars and some Park Rangers. Ever the anti-socialite, I thought, welp, so much for that, onto Great Bay Boulevard.

    All of this is just a long way to say, while I most never balk and change up on locations, last night I was sure glad I did. To hell with my M.O.! A most serendipitous unplanned deviation brought me to this spot. With this light. Under the shelter of some of the most glorious high pressure and comfortable temperatures you can imagine. For us folks along the NJ coast, better weather almost never comes our way. Everything about last night was perfection—even if my targeted spot wasn’t.

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  • Take Your Place Amongst the Revelers

    HDR photograph of a fiery sunset over Barnegat Bay as seen from Surf City, NJ
    Take Your Place Amongst the Revelers — 14mm | f/8 | ISO 100 | 7 Bracketed Exposures

    Last night’s sunset was well attended—emphasis on well. Unsurprising in hindsight, on a gorgeous mid-Summer Saturday night, Surf City’s little Sunset Park must have drawn in some 40-plus revelers to capture the final few moments of the Earth’s daily rotation away from the Sun. It was great to see such enthusiasm from the populace.

    Of course seeing and shooting are two different things, and it didn’t take long for me to realize I had chosen my final destination poorly. You see as the human headcount in any one spot increases, the ability to carve out a good, unobstructed view with a wide angle lens rears its limitations quickly. Unable to position myself with a more northward facing angle, where the most interesting clouds—both in shape and color—were marking the sky, I was left with no choice but to look out due west. Essentially recreating this shot from May 2014. Even with my little spot carved out I still had a few visitors get close enough for a hand or foot to sneak its way into my frame. Though I can hardly blame them: before I had gotten into photography I had no appreciation for just how wide a shot really can be.

    At the end of the day I was able to come away with a serviceable enough photo. I just wish I didn’t feel at odds with myself; on the one hand bummed that I couldn’t hunt for an ideal exposure like I usually do, and on the other hand self-conscious about feeling like my presence is just getting in everybody else’s way. Folks enjoying their vacation time looking to get a good cellphone shot don’t want to have to deal with tripod laden space hogs such as myself.

    ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

  • Platformer

    Square format macro photograph of a Black-eyed Susan and a fly
    Platformer — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 200 | EXP 1/500

    It’s funny how the mind recognizes patterns and builds associations. You’ll see, smell, or touch a thing and, boom, the mind’s eye reflexively retrieves a memory. Anytime my macro lens and I get low to go side-on with daisies or coneflowers familiar MIDI sounds of my youth start humming, and my brain renders a primordial 8-bit Mario jumping from mushroom platform to mushroom platform. You know? These guys. So here I am transforming an innocuous Black-eyed Susan chilling in my front yard into the digital joy of my youth; smooth, clean flower petal edges become jagged lines of a pixelated past. Brains, man.

    How about you? Have any examples of when you see (smell or touch) a thing, and your mind works naturally to retrieve another?

  • Your Moment in the Sun

    Low key macro photograph of a fly atop a Black-eyed Susan
    Your Moment in the Sun — 100mm | f/4 | ISO 400 | EXP 1/2500

    Most always when shooting macro I rely on the camera’s autofocus system to home in on a single point of focus of my choosing—within the camera’s autofocus grid selection, that is. But for this shot I switched over to full manual focus. The system was struggling to capture optimal sharpness of the fly—if anyone can identify said fly that would be great!—so I took matters into my own hands. Literally.

    All factors were ideal for the making of this shot. Wind was no issue, keeping the Black-eyed Susan still; there was a happy little fly confident enough to sit motionless for well over a minute; and lastly, a lone sunbeam illuminating what otherwise was a bed of flowers slumbering in the shadows with a welcome dose of drama. Altogether creating one of those moments were all I had to do was steady the hands, take a deep breath, and depress the shutter before the exhale.